


Her Name Was Juletta

by itzaimster



Category: Shadow and Bone (TV), The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzaimster/pseuds/itzaimster
Summary: Throughout his induction and training at the Little Palace, and even into the Darkling's servitude, Fedyor had the same dream.
Kudos: 2





	Her Name Was Juletta

_**Her name was Juletta.** _

_The dimming summer sun filtering through the shutters on the store window added a golden shine to her red fire curls. He couldn’t see her eyes as she concentrated on her work but he knew that any moment they would rise and the peridot globes would once again take his breath away. Her curls bounced in time with the scratches of her pencil and when the sound came to a lull he knew the moment was upon him.  
“Fedyor? Fedyor! Are you listening to me?!”  
He didn’t know how long he’d been staring at her smile before the voice of his father cut through his awareness.  
“Fedyor my son, it is time for your test. Don’t be late.” _

*

The memory had been fresh when he’d first walked through the doors of the Little Palace in Os Alta. But as the years slowly drifted by and his attention became focused on his studies he found himself starting to forget. The first thing to go was the smell. He could remember the distinct smell of his father’s workshop, where her father had also worked and they used to play together waiting for the work to be done so they could guide their fathers home in the dark. But she had somehow always smelled of flowers from the community gardens. Perhaps she pressed them in her hair or kept them beneath her clothes. What flowers were they? He was sure they had been white. Or maybe yellow.

“Fedyor,” he was pulled from his thoughts by one of his classmates, “this might bore you incredibly but we won’t make it to Botkin’s class if we don’t finish sometime soon.”  
“Sorry, I’m here,” Fedyor rubbed his face. He was sad to leave the daydream behind. Ivan was right, their classes had become a terrible bore. But like every other Grisha at the Little Palace he understood how essential they were. Being of the Corporalki order they were expected to put in many more hours than their Etherealki and Materialki brethren. The Corporalki toyed with life and death after all.  
They also needed to become incredible fighters among the Second Army. That was where Botkin came in.  
They struggled through the end of the paperwork before gladly leaving the library and heading for Botkin’s training yard. It would be a mere few weeks before they were expected to choose – or would be told – which order of Corporalki would suit their powers best. Fedyor had been trying for a long time to focus his abilities on healing the wounded but their instructors had no patience for the time it was taking him to trail behind the others.   
His skills clearly lay with the Heartrenders as much as he tried to learn otherwise.  
Heartrenders were expected to take lives quickly and efficiently on the battlefield but he was yet to take a single one. He’d only once set foot in the sealed rooms the Corporalki used for their biology experiments and the mood had been so tense he’d been nauseous the rest of the day. Those rooms would be where he would learn the intricacies of the circadian rhythm and how to control blood flow more accurately. But until he was officially set on the path to being a Heartrender he would concentrate on his theory and his combat training.  
As soon as Botkin’s staff met his jaw, his mind wandered back to his father’s workshop and the last time he saw her. It was still the only reprieve from the pain.

*

_**Her name was Juletza.** _

_The paleness of her skin made it easy for her to hide in striking shadows at the side of the road as they walked home together in the dark. She held her father’s hand as Fedyor held his, but his eyes trailed her up until they parted ways. So it was every night.  
He dreamed of her. About the life they would lead together. Sometimes he inherited the workshop and she would bring him hot rolls for lunch as he toiled away. Sometimes they moved to a place far away called Noyvi Zem where they were safe from the Ravkan war and he could be a farmer. He wasn’t sure what farmers did but they always seemed to have plenty of food. Sometimes he dreamt of children younger than he, with red curls and dark eyes. They would run in circles both inside and outside of their home and they would always feel safe._

*

Fedyor opened his eyes when the cart came to a halt. His knuckles were white where his hands clasped his knees, but he kept a stoic expression. This was an important day.  
He followed the other Heartrenders down onto the road. The Darkling’s carriage was parked a little further and the horses were being fed. They had seen the Darkling many times around the Little Palace by now, though the students suspected his presence was mere showmanship. He kept to himself and his _oprichniki_ and barely spared the students a glance. Today however would be different. Today the Darkling would choose a new Heartrender to stand at his side in battle. The last one had succumbed to age so a replacement was required. A set of trials had narrowed the field down to five of them, and both Fedyor and Ivan were present for the final test which the Darkling would oversee.  
“Attention Grisha!” one of the _oprichniki_ called their attention and they quickly gathered before him, “today will be your final chance to impress your _soverennyi_. In the field behind us lies a tent. Inside the tent are five deserters of the First Army. We must know their intelligence as swiftly as possible. This will be your goal.”  
The _oprichnik_ paced before them, his hands behind his back.  
“You will use the skills you have mastered in the Corporalki chambers, and you will need them. Our _soverennyi_ will observe. There is not much room inside so three of you will go into the tent first, the other two will follow. Understood?”  
“ _Da kapitan_ ,” they replied in unison.  
They were split, with Fedyor and Ivan remaining behind. Both felt a little awkward as they stood at attention just waiting for the others to finish. But Ivan quickly realised that none of the other _oprichniki_ were paying them any attention.  
“ _Beznako_ ,” he chided with a little jest, “I have this easily. You spent too much time crying over not being able to heal bloodied wounds.”  
“There are three others here,” Fedyor mused with a nod to the tent.  
“And they will fail. Or perhaps not fail, but once the Darkling sees what I can do?” he puffed out his chest, “he won’t be able to resist.”  
“If your wish is to be invited to his bed chambers I think you may be out of luck.”  
Ivan scoffed, but deflated a little. A scream from the tent pulled their attention back. They were watching when the side of the tent billowed as someone was thrown against it. Another scream followed, and very suddenly two of the soldiers were running from the tent.  
“Ivan,” Fedyor stepped to the side and Ivan immediately threw out his hand.  
The male soldier clutched at his chest and crumpled to the ground, his face twisted in agony. The female saw what happened and quickly darted in the opposite direction just as the Darkling appeared at the door to the tent.  
“STOP HER!” he demanded.  
Ivan raised a hand to do the same but the Darkling threw a wisp of black between him and the girl.  
“We need her alive you fool!” he scorned, and Fedyor had the sudden realisation that he’d never seen their leader so dishevelled.  
His eyes followed the girl as she ran for the trees and he took a deep breath to concentrate before reaching out with his own power. The girl didn’t stop but she certainly slowed. Fedyor stared determinedly at her back as her pacing became shorter and she fell to her knees. She continued to crawl. She had a lot of fight in her.   
But of course she did; she was a soldier.  
Once she was down and clearly confused Fedyor made his way over to her. He turned her onto her back and she easily collapsed under him.  
“What… what have you done?” she whispered through cracked lips.  
“Tell me,” Fedyor was stern, “what does the Darkling want to know?”  
She frowned and closed her eyes. Fedyor held a hand above her chest before releasing her shoulder and holding the other above her forehead.  
“It’s okay,” he used a soft tone, “you are safe. Tell me what does the Darkling want to know?”  
“The location of our camp,” he barely heard the words.  
“And where is your camp?” he ignored the feeling of dread that was threatening to rise in him at the prospect of her answer.  
“East of Chernast, below the permafrost.”  
“Thank you,” Fedyor looked up for the first time.  
The Darkling stood over him looking upon the scene curiously. With a chill entering his spine, he realised that everyone nearby was staring. Even Ivan as he stood over the crumpled form of her former comrade.  
“I...”  
“Get up,” the Darkling took him by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet.  
Fedyor looked down in time to see him use the Cut to slice her throat open.  
 _Juletza would have been about her age by now._  
“Come,” he ordered, expecting Fedyor to follow him to his dark carriage.  
Fedyor complied even as he registered that Ivan’s stare had turned to a glower. He ignored both he and the bodies of the soldiers to keep his eyes forward and calm his own heart rate. The Darkling wanted to speak to him alone. He may not emerge alive.  
Once in the carriage the Darkling leaned out again.  
“Take care of the tent and hold the other Heartrender,” he gave an order to his coach guard before closing the door and setting his sights on Fedyor.  
Fedyor had never realised how bright the Darkling’s eyes were. People speculated they were blacker than night, similar to his power, but right now they were clear as river and just as full of life.  
“What did you do to her?” his voice broke the spell and reminded Fedyor that he was but a tiny bug under the Darkling’s shoe wishing for mercy.  
“I slowed her heart rate,” Fedyor answered honestly, “at the right amount it causes a sense of confusion and displacement. She may not have remembered that she was running for her life at that time.”  
The Darkling considered this before leaning back in his seat.  
“You were able to use her heart to play with her mind?” he tried to understand.  
“It’s a trick in the blood, but yes,” Fedyor knew he wouldn’t really want details because he wasn’t a Corporalnik – he was technically Etherealnik, a summoner.  
“What is your name?”  
“Fedyor Kaminsky, _moi soverennyi_.”  
“You have set me a challenge, Kaminsky. Your set of skills may be valuable but when the deserters ran from the tent you hesitated.”  
“I apologise,” Fedyor bowed his head.  
“It means I cannot trust you to be a part of my personal guard alone,” the Darkling as good as ignored the apology, “do you trust your friend out there?”  
“Ivan?” Fedyor looked to make sure he stood where the Darkling indicated, “with my life, _moi soverennyi_.”  
“You work well together?”  
“We can.”  
The Darkling sighed to himself as if he didn’t like what he were about to say.  
“Then I shall appoint the both of you.”  
Fedyor looked up to make sure that he had heard right.  
“Ivan, was it? His reflexes and your skill. Together it will work. You are dismissed.”  
Fedyor hesitated, unsure, before berating himself and quickly exiting the carriage. Wasn’t that what he’d just been shamed for? Hesitation? He had hesitated because he hadn’t wanted to hurt the girl. On the battlefield that could cost him his life or worse – someone else’s.  
“What did he say?” Ivan asked the moment Fedyor was in range.  
“We got the job,” Fedyor couldn’t hide his relief nor his accomplishment now, “both of us.”  
“Both of us?” Ivan frowned, turning back to the tent where the prisoners had been kept.  
It was now well aflame, the oprichniki keeping an eye on its destruction.  
“Makes sense. He needed me more than you, and we’re the only ones left.”

*

_**Her name was Juletzia.** _

_He thought. He knew the details were fading away into obscurity, but one thing that always remained was the sound of her laugh. She laughed when his father made a funny joke. She laughed when a bird flew into the workshop. She even laughed when he sat a worm under his nose and saluted like one of the First Army soldiers who came into the shop on their travels. That was his favourite laugh._

*

Fedyor kept his eyes closed as the carriage rolled into the village. His knuckles were white where his hands clasped his knees, but he kept a stoic expression. When the carriage came to a halt he forced his eyes open and immediately flushed when he realised the Darkling had been watching him with an amused expression on his face. Ivan smirked as he exited the carriage first, the Darkling following after a moment. Fedyor took a deep breath to compose himself before stepping out.  
Ivan led the way to the entrance of the cathedral and stood to the side as the Darkling entered alone. Fedyor took up post on the opposite side of the door. They’d been visiting many cathedrals of late, but the Heartrenders were not privy as to why.  
“What is it about this place that has you so unnerved?” Ivan was scouring the grounds for possible threat as he spoke.  
Fedyor knew it would be no use lying. He and Ivan had grown close enough over the years spent in close confines that he would immediately know.  
“I grew up here,” he was also keeping an eye out, while also reaching with his power to test if anyone nearby had an irregularly high heart rate, “I will know a lot of people, and they will know me.”  
“Your parents?” Ivan cast a glance his way.  
“My mother was poorly, I doubt she still lives. My father maybe.”  
“We should ask the Darkling for a day pass and go visit,” Ivan mused.  
They both chuckled shortly before returning their attention to the public.

The sun was low by the time the Darkling emerged from the cathedral. He ignored his guard as he made for the carriage, removing some gloves and throwing them to the ground. One of the _oprichniki_ collected them on the way to his horse.  
Fedyor and Ivan followed the Darkling into his carriage, respectfully avoiding eye contact as the door was closed behind them and they began to move. The Darkling fussed with his clothes a little and took out a notepad in which he vigorously scribbled some notes.  
Unexpectedly, the carriage stopped a short time later. Both Ivan and Fedyor looked to their leader quizzically.  
“I need a moment to myself,” the Darkling didn’t bother to look up from his work, “I believe Kaminsky originally hails from this village. You have until dark to return to me.”  
Fedyor’s eyes shot to Ivan, who indicated the door.  
“Go, or I will take your hesitation as refusal,” the Darkling warned, “we have a long journey home and I will need you both at full attention.”  
“Of course. _Spasibo, moi severennyi_ ,” Fedyor bowed his head, going for the door with Ivan close behind him.  
The _oprichniki_ outside closed the carriage door once they were free and Fedyor straightened his _kefta_.  
“Do you think he overheard us?” Ivan raised a brow, taking a look around at where they’d be starting from.  
“I don’t know,” Fedyor was showing his nerves.  
He made a mental note not to speak so freely even outside of a building the Darkling was present in. It was an honour to serve the Darkling so closely and he didn’t want to lose the opportunity through insolence.  
“Where to?” Ivan cleared his throat.  
When Fedyor looked around, he felt his chest lighten. The Darkling’s carriage had parked very near to his old school. His father’s workshop had been just over the hill from here. He could only hope that it may still be there, and if his father were working that day that he hadn’t left early.  
“This way,” he made for the hill with urgency, knowing that they didn’t have much time.

He breathed a sigh of relief wen the shop came into view. The facade looked different but the signs remained the same. He quickened his pace.  
The shop was busy so as he entered he clasped his hands behind his back. The colour of his _kefta_ would alert everyone that he and Ivan were Heartrenders, and the gesture seemed to somewhat calm the _otkazat’sya_. A Grisha needed his hands to use his powers, and having them behind his back would put him at a disadvantage with anyone holding a weapon.  
He nodded in greeting to the few people giving him odd stares as he worked his way through the crowd, but he couldn’t help but notice how they parted for him. He remembered the days when his father’s clientele would barely notice him and sometimes even stood on his feet. Now he felt like the most important client of all.  
When he came to the counter he waited behind the person being served, dimly aware of how the line had scattered for him. The woman behind it had already seen him and she quickly set the man’s things aside.  
“How can we serve the Second Army today?” she asked with a slight tremble to her voice, her eyes roaming his _kefta_ rather than his face.  
He could feel the nervous pace of her heart in her chest, but his focus was on her eyes. Her peridot eyes. He took a moment to compose himself.  
“I am looking for a man. Sir Kaminsky,” he nodded slightly.  
“I’m sorry,” she moved some red hair from her eyes, “Master Kaminsky was scripted to the First Army some years ago. He has not been home since.”  
Fedyor’s face paled slightly but he kept his composure.  
“I am sorry to hear that.”  
“Is there something else I can do for you and your friend?”  
Fedyor checked over his shoulder to see Ivan perusing the shelves. He knew he was not interested and trying to look busy, but he couldn’t help but look suspicious with that serious solider look on his face.  
“Do you remember me?” Fedyor turned back to the woman, skin as pale as moonlight but now covered in darkened freckles that had most definitely seen their share of sun.  
“I’m sorry… should I? Did you have an order with us?”  
He knew his face had fallen when hers had twisted in confusion.  
“Juletzia?”  
“Julvetta.”  
“My mistake,” Fedyor flushed a little, “our fathers worked this shop together. Sir Kaminsky is my father.”  
“Oh!” the look of surprise made his heart leap with joy, “Fedyor!”  
“ _Da_.”  
“You’re a Heartrender?”  
“... _Da_.”  
She was about to respond when a child came running from the back room. A child with red curls and dark eyes. Fedyor resisted the urge to pinch himself, but barely.  
“Mama!”  
As she pulled the girl into her arms, Fedyor felt a familiar pang in his stomach. The same one he felt when he saw the Grisha students pairing off. The same one he felt when he saw peasant couples holding hands as they walked the dirt roads of Os Alta and beyond. The same one he felt when that young Etherealnik from Novokribirsk made eyes at him and he simply rolled his back at her.  
There would be no happy ending for him. Not with Julvetta and not in this village. He was Grisha, and she was _otkazat’sya_. Like cats and dogs, they could never be.  
“Fedyor!” Ivan called his attention, “the sun is setting!”  
“I must go,” he gave Julvetta a smile and a nod, “it was nice to see you.”  
“You too. Thanks for stopping by!” Julvetta smiled back, and her daughter gave a small wave.  
Fedyor turned on his heel and followed Ivan from the shop, working to suppress his mood.

They waited aside the carriage until the Darkling indicated for them to enter. Once inside and the door was closed they were quickly on their way.  
“How did it go?” the Darkling asked with a small smile, clearly in a much better mood than when they had left.  
“Not well,” Fedyor admitted, “my mother has passed and my father joined the First Army some time ago.”  
There was a moment of awkward silence in the carriage as he avoided the Darkling’s gaze. Ivan was watching with interest.  
“I’m sorry,” the Darkling said softly, “I had thought bringing you here might find you some closure. I will request assistance from the King in locating his regiment.”  
“ _Spasibo, moi severennyi_ ,” Fedyor knew he didn’t look anywhere near as grateful as he felt.  
“Are you feeling okay?”  
Fedyor could feel the concern in his heart, atop a placid layer that he was sure was a remnant from the Darkling’s grandfather The Black Heretic. He knew the Darkling’s heart lay purely with Ravka and its protection but he’d gotten used to the occasional concern he showed for his men.  
“Of course, _moi severennyi_ ,” he forced a smile, knowing the Darkling’s power didn’t have the same skill as his, “I am very grateful for whatever you may share.”  
The Darkling returned his smile, then sat back and retrieved his notebook again. He felt a hand on his knee and looked to Ivan. Ivan’s expression was about as encouraging as he could force it to be as he gave his knee a pat.  
Fedyor gave him a thankful nod before turning his gaze to the window. They were a long way from Os Alta and they couldn’t afford to let their guard down. The Darkling’s carriage was very distinct and mercenaries from both Fjerda and Shu Han would just love to get their hands on the ruler of Ravka’s Second Army.  
It would be his life’s work to make sure that did not happen.


End file.
